


To Build a Home

by flammable_grimm_pitch



Series: Sephora Zukka AU [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Bakoda Fleet Week, Gay dads, M/M, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammable_grimm_pitch/pseuds/flammable_grimm_pitch
Summary: A short lil fic for Bakoda Ship Week!
Relationships: Bato & Katara (Avatar), Bato & Sokka (Avatar), Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Hakoda & Katara (Avatar), Hakoda & Sokka (Avatar)
Series: Sephora Zukka AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852465
Kudos: 43





	To Build a Home

**Author's Note:**

> Really excited to contribute to #BakodaFleetWeek this year! We stan two supportive dads.

The scent of fresh fish wafted through the Shimizu house, a sure sign that Bato, the family’s resident fisherman, had been successful during his time out on the lake that day. The dish of baked and seasoned trout fillets he set out on the table was picked clean within minutes.

“Great dinner, love,” Bato’s husband Hakoda said appreciatively, smiling at him from across the table. “That hit the spot.” 

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Bato nodded. It wasn’t hard to please his family when it came to food, but fish was Hakoda's favourite. 

“Next time you’re planning an early morning out on the lake, Papa, let me know,” their eldest, Sokka, requested. “I haven’t fished in forever.” 

“Sokka, you literally went out last weekend,” Katara reminded him. “You were really mad because Aang caught like 10 fish, and all you got was a net full of minnows.” 

“Pfft, that was beginner’s luck,” the young man snorted, reaching up to adjust the elastic holding his wolf tail in place. "Just because he's your boyfriend doesn't automatically make him the world's best fisherman, you know." 

“Speaking of boyfriends,” Hakoda intercepted the conversation, “When do we get to meet this young man you’ve been going on about, Sokka?” 

“Ugh, seriously, Dad?” Sokka groaned, covering his face with his hands. Was it possible for his parents to go a single day without royally embarrassing him? “I bring him up _one time_ and you’re already planning our wedding.” 

"Ha! One time?" Katara nearly choked on the sip of water she had just taken. "If by 'one time' you mean 'non-stop for the last week'." Sokka balled up his napkin and bounced it off Katara's forehead, earning him a smack upside the head from Hakoda. 

"Sokka, you're not a child," his father reminded him. "Use your words." 

"Koda, _really,_ " Bato scolded. "All three of you need to smarten up. Katara, don't pester your brother. Sokka, don't throw things at your sister. And _you,_ " Bato scowled, pointed his fork across the table at his husband, "Keep your hands to yourself, and mind your own business. Sokka will invite his friend over if and when he's ready." Once he'd sufficiently chastised his family, Bato went back to eating his potatoes in silence. His husband fumed silently, and his children were mirror images of each other, with their crossed arms and murderous glares. 

“Papa, can I please be excused?” Katara asked politely once she had managed to calm down. “I promised Toph I’d call her after supper. We're planning a sleepover this weekend, and we have to decide on what movies to watch." 

“As long as you put your dishes away,” Bata nodded, pushing his empty plate forward. “You too, Sokka. I can see you squirming over there.” The young man was out of his chair in an instant. The familiar clank of plates and silverware being piled into the dishwasher sounded from the kitchen. 

The two men sat silently at the dining table, waiting to speak until Sokka and Katara had retreated to their bedrooms. Bato steeled himself for the possibility of Hakoda shouting (Sokka had inherited his dramatic flare from Koda, there was no doubt), but released a breath of relief when they finally locked eyes, and he saw that his husband's expression had smoothed over for the most part. 

"What's so wrong with asking Sokka about his boyfriend?" Hakoda pouted sullenly. "He's our son, Bato; aren't you curious?" 

“How long had we been together before you introduced me to your mother as your partner?” Bato asked, raising an eyebrow knowingly. 

“That was an entirely different situation!” Hakoda protested. “We'd been friends for two decades by then, and the kids were too young to understand." 

"I know," Bato sighed, leaning back in his seat. 

He thought back on their days as young men, living together in the shoddy little house (if it could even be called a house) on the edge of the remote village they'd been raised in - long before the days of Hakoda and Kya. The only source of heat came from the woodstove, and without electrical access, the two relied on oil lamps for lighting. In the beginning, their beds were against opposite walls of the one-room house, and all their possessions were kept separate. They were two distinct entities: Hakoda and Bato. But slowly, as the months wore on and the frigid weather wore them down, the lines began to blur. Bato's trousers were a bit long in the leg for Hakoda, and the tall, wiry youth tended to drown in his friend's shirts, but in the end, every scrap of fabric between them had become communal. 

When Hakoda finally worked up the courage to tell Bato how he felt - had grabbed him by the neck and yanked him into a messy kiss - they'd ended the night tangled together on one of their twin beds. It was a tight fit. After that, both mattresses were pushed together on one side of the room, and the empty space (barely big enough for two chairs) was converted into a workspace, where Hakoda spent hours whittling away at pieces of whalebone beside Bato, who sewed seal skins and animal furs into mukluks and mittens and jackets, as he'd been taught by his grandmother. They sold their wares to other villagers and to tourists in order to keep the fire going at night. They survived on whatever they hunted or fished, making the occasional trade with the tribe's more skilled culinarians for something a bit more novel. 

For three years, it had been Hakoda and Bato against the world. They were attached at the hip, much to the distaste of Hakoda's traditional mother. They ate and slept and hunted together. And then, in what felt like an instant, everything fell apart. Hakoda's parents informed him of their wish that he marry the daughter of another tribe's chief. He argued with them, begged, insisted that he be allowed to remain with Bato, but eventually, with deep sorrow, the two men parted ways. 

Koda and his lovely wife - a vision in blue, with eyes that sparkled like the sun on fresh snow, had two children, the oldest of whom was a spitting image of his father. Bato was called upon by the village elders to train the boy in the art of the spear from the time he could walk. It was a kind of torture akin to dipping his hand in scalding water, to be so close to Hakoda, yet so far away. 

When Kya died suddenly and unexpectedly, Hakoda was distraught. There was no way he could raise two children on his own, not in _that_ village, where each and every space was haunted by his wife's memory. He nearly went mad at the very thought of it. And so Bato, who had finally forgiven Hakoda for not following his heart years before, stepped up and offered to help raise Sokka and Katara, asking for nothing in return. The two men packed up their earthly belongings and left their people, including Hakoda's ageing mother, to start a new life. The ragtag family cohabitated for two full years before Hakoda put aside his pride and dignity to beg Bato to take him back, another 6 months before Bato agreed, and five more until Hakoda wrote his mother a long letter explaining the truth: that he'd loved Bato for much of his life, and that he wasn't willing to go another day without him. They were married in the village the next spring surrounded by friends and family, and the rest was history. 

* * * * * 

Just before 11:00, Hakoda slid into bed beside his husband, whose nose was stuck in a book. He tucked himself against Bato's side and rested his head on the man's boney shoulder. 

"I told him to take his time, to bring that boy over whenever he was ready," Koda murmured begrudgingly. "And then hugged me." 

"Hmm," Bato acknowledged with a hum, glancing at his husband over the frames of his reading glasses. 

"You can say 'I told you so," Hakoda said, rolling his eyes. "Come on, I know you want to." 

"Nope, not going to do that," Bato replied, setting his book down on his bedside table. "Sokka reminds me of another young man I once knew, who - once given some time to think and figure things out for himself - was able to work up the courage to introduce his boyfriend to his family." Bato wrapped an arm around his husband's shoulders and held him close, smiling as he reminisced on the early days of their relationship. "You've given him exactly what he needs, Koda. And now, we just have to leave things up to him. He'll come to us when he's ready." 

"I don't think it's fair that you're so damn good at parenting," Hakoda harrumphed, frowning as he looked up at Bato. "I passed my genes onto the kids, but somehow you were the one given all the knowledge and all the right answers. What's with that, huh?" 

“Not _all_ the right answers,” Bato smiled, pressing a tender kiss to Hakoda’s temple. “Just most of them.”


End file.
